He Still Hopes
by i.am.a.fantasy.freak
Summary: Rosto admires Beka from afar. Very short, after Bloodhound. i've fixed a couple of mistakes. enjoy!
1. Admire

Rosto the Piper almost sighed as he looked up and saw Beka coming to join the group for breakfast. This was the first time she had done so since returning from Port Caynn. That pox-ridden, bum-licking place. That's where she met that cursed Dale Rowan, the stupid mumper. When Rosto had heard about Beka and Master Dale he had considered going for a visit to see ol' Pearl Skinner. He quickly forgot about it when he realised how horribly painful it would be for him when Beka found out.

He watched as she fiddled with her braid, eyes lighting up as she laughed at one of Aniki's jokes. Mithros those eyes! How they made his spine tingle in the most agreeable way. Rosto couldn't understand why people thought they were intimidating, even when Beka was angry, all he could see was a steely determination.

"Rosto!" suddenly there was a hand waving franticly in front of his face.

"Anyone in there? Or are you to busy day dreaming about our resident Bloodhound?" the hand belonged to Aniki, so did the wry sense of humour.

"Why there most certainly is Milady," Rosto said dramatically "how can a humble one such as I, be of service to the most gracious lady?" bowing his head with a Player's flair, he could hear the others laughing.

Looking up, he caught Beka's eyes. She was laughing along with the rest of the fools, but stopped abruptly when she saw Rosto's eyes. He knew what she saw; it was reflected in her own icy blue eyes. Rosto knew she was afraid of it, wouldn't let it consume her. But still he hoped, that one day she would be ready for it, ready to accept that what they both felt was a once in a life time kind of thing. And just maybe, that Beka Cooper would give this rusher a fighting chance.


	2. Wish

One month had passed since Beka's return, and Rosto was getting used to the fact that nothing between them was going to change.

As he sat on his wooden 'throne' at the Dancing Dove, he watched her as she sipped her raspberry Twilsey.

Beka remained as unresponsive to his advances as she had before going on her pox-rotted hunt. Rosto berated himself; he was trying to force something that Beka wasn't ready for, emotionally at least.

With that in mind, a thought presented itself to him; if Beka wasn't ready for an emotional relationship, perhaps she would be more open to one of the… sexual kind. _It might just work!_ Trying to keep a grin of his face, Rosto knew he had something. Beka desired him, which was clear when he had managed to steal those kisses, and after all, she had needs. A fact that had become infuriatingly clear when _Dale Rowan _had come into the picture_._ Rosto had to consciously stop himself imagining the many torture methods he would love to practise on Master Dale. Only problem was, he would have to convince her she was his only mot. That might be the difficult part; since Rosto was quite sure Beka had half his female court in bed with him. It might have been true a while back but now Rosto only wanted one mot. Her.

Focusing again on the outside world he noticed Beka was walking towards him.

"What are you plotting Rosto? I can hear the cogs turning across the room." She had stopped about three feet in front of his chair, hands held behind her back. Classic Dog pose. Someone had managed to get her to wear a dress tonight, oh and Mithros save him! Beka looked more beautiful then usual.

"Well you see love; I'm trying to figure out which one of our dear friends managed to get that beauty on you, since none of them are missing in action." She scowled.

"I'm not answering that Rosto." Rosto shrugged; he just wished he could be the one to take it _off_ her.

"Didn't spect you to." He said grinning in way, most people would call rogueish, "So, did you want anything?"

"Only to say goodnight."

"What? Leaving so soon?" Beka smiled at his disappointed tone.

"I'm tired," she explained "I had a long watch, and then I came straight here." Obviously not _straight _ here, he thought, eyeing the dress.

"I know what will pick you up." He leaned over and passed her his jack of ale.

"Rosto!" she gave him a glare that would make a weaker man cower. "You _know_ I don't drink." he gave a full belly laugh and half his court turned to look at the pair.

"I know, love, I know, your never gonna get me to stop offering… unless you drink that. Then I promise the only ale your ever going to taste will be on some lucky cove's lips." Beka was furious; Rosto could see it in the way she stiffened and the almost unperceivable glint in her eyes. But she lightened her features, as only a Dog can.

"I'll hold you to that Rosto the Piper." Throwing back her head she gulped down the ale. Rosto stared on in shock; he hadn't actually expected her to _do_ it. She slammed the jack down on the table next to them and suddenly seemed to realise they had an audience.

Deciding he may as well do something useful, he yelled at the mumpers to mind the own business. They quickly went back to their conversations, not wanting to anger their King.

"Mithros Beka," he said, she looked very queasy "come on, I'll walk you to your room." Something must be wrong since she wasn't vehemently refusing. He stood up, took Beka's hand and showed her out one of the many back ways.

"You alright love?" Rosto asked as they walked across the street, he noticed she didn't let go of his hand. Beka grinned.

"I'm tipsy." That explained it. They reached her building and Rosto opened the door. Bowing like a player

"My lady." She giggled, Beka giggled. He gaped, but quickly closed his mouth as they tramped up the stairs. At the door to Beka's room he let go of her hand.

"Well love, I'll never again be able to get you even slightly drunk, so I'm gonna take advantage of the situation." Rosto leaned over and gave Beka a small peck on the lips. As he pulled back, he could see Beka was frowning. In a move so fast he didn't see it coming; Beka covered his mouth with hers and pushed him back into her door. Rosto couldn't think properly. _She's kissing me back! _Was the only thought he could focus on. This was better than Rosto could imagine, kissing Beka wasn't like feeling sparks, no, it was like feeling a bonfire. Behind Rosto the door gave way, and he realised Beka must have opened it. She backed him up till his knees hit her bed and pushed them both on to it. Rosto rolled them over so he was on top and started kissing down her neck and jaw bone.

"Are you going to regret this?" he asked softly in between kisses. Beka was breathless and gasping but she managed to get out a 'no' before they both surrendered to each other.


	3. At Last

"ROSTO THE SARDEN PIPER!" were the glorious words that woke Rosto from his deep and restful sleep. Opening his eyes and turning his head, Rosto saw Beka lying on her back with a disbelieving look on her face.

It hadn't been one of his blissful fantasies then; he really had, finally, slept with Beka! Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Rosto watched as Beka sat up on the other side of her bed. She held her sheets in front of her very naked body and proceeded to give him an icy glare. Mithros she was beautiful!

"You know I'd _love_ to take credit for this," he said as casually as he could, taking in her ruffled hair and flushed cheeks, "but you're the one who pulled _me_ into bed." Beka's glare intensified so much he had the urge to hide under the blankets.

"You…you got me drunk!" Beka stuttered.

"Half a jack of ale and you're drunk?" Rosto wanted to know, he quite enjoyed watching her struggle to find reasons for her actions.

"You of all people should know I can't handle alcohol!" Rosto could see Beka was becoming less mad at him and angrier with herself.

"Well then, I've only one question then I promise to get out of your hair." He looked around, as if he only now noticed where he was, "…and your bed." Beka didn't look impressed. Rosto sat up and faced her.

"Did you enjoy it?" she turned the brightest shade of red Rosto had ever seen. It was so… well, cute!

"Ah...Well, you see... Mmm… um..." his heart swelled.

"By the Great Mother Goddess Beka," he exclaimed "do you know how much I love you?"

Beka's mouth opened….and quickly closed. She shot him a sceptical look.

"Why did you say that? You've got me into your bed; actually, you've gotten yourself into _my_ bed." She ducked her head beneath her hair, "so you can tick me off your list and move on to the next mot." Beka said it so softly he physically had to lean forward to hear her.

"Oh my sweet, silly Beka." Rosto said sadly, he reached out and took her hand in his "is that what you think? That you were a _number_ on a list? Mithros love; I haven't had a mot since _you_ were with that Dale Rowan." He paused "I've been waiting for _you_."

She looked into his eyes,

"I know I probably shouldn't, but I believe you." all Rosto could do was stare wide eyed at her. Allowing herself a small chuckle at Rosto's foolishness Beka leaned forward and kissed him. Drawing back she whispered,

"_I love you too._"

This time it was Rosto who pushed Beka down to the bed.

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**Should i keep going? i'm not sure:)**

**I just realised i forgot to put a disclaimer on this story. Oops!**

**Disclaimer: everything you recognise is not mine!  
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